


Don't Let the Sun Blast Your Shadow

by Nokomis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Friendshippy, Gen, best friend hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like Danny doesn’t understand that Beacon Hills is, well, a beacon for weird-ass shit.  (Or, the one where Jackson 'rescues' Danny from a lacrosse field full of fairies.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let the Sun Blast Your Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> For Itsy’s prompt on tumblr. <3 This… turned out less shippy than you probably wanted, but hopefully you’ll enjoy it anyway. Beta done by the lovely Lielabell. <3

It’s not like Danny doesn’t understand that Beacon Hills is, well, a beacon for weird-ass shit. He does. He knows way more about the weird-ass shit happening in this town than he particularly _wants_ to, thanks to how stunningly un-subtle everyone involved in the supernatural hijinks is.

It’s just that he didn’t really think that he’d ever have to deal with it directly. The whole paralysis thing with the kanima was the closest Danny’s come so far, and frankly, it was enough for a lifetime.

So of course that is going to make this phone call extremely awkward. He hits send, and pulls his knees closer to his chest, even though he’s pretty sure that he’s completely hidden from view.

“Hello?” Jackson doesn’t bother with his usual douchebag drawl with Danny, which Danny is grateful for. He loves Jackson and wouldn’t want to have to stop being friends with him.

“So I’m surrounded by fairies,” Danny whispers. He definitely regrets his decision to come out for a night practice.

“Are they cute? Get any numbers?” Jackson asks. Okay, so Jackson isn’t capable of dropping the douchebaggery entirely, since it’s a central part of his personality. Danny takes a deep breath and wishes he had time to count to ten.

“No, asshole, I’m surrounded by freaking fairies. Wings and freaky big eyes and even freakier sharp teeth.”

“So basically you need a ride home until you come down from whatever you’re on,” Jackson says. “I’ll be there as soon as you give me an address.”

“I’m not on anything,” Danny hisses. “Good grief, you’d think a werewolf would be less of a skeptic.”

There’s silence on the other end, which is extremely un-Jackson like, and then Danny realizes that probably Jackson wanted to tell him about the whole werewolf thing himself, not have Danny sarcastically throw it into conversation.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Danny adds, because that’s what Jackson had said when Danny came out to him back in middle school, and he’s kind of sad that he did this on the phone, because there’s no reason to do his spot-on imitation of the teasing smirk Jackson had used back then. Danny has been waiting years to be able to use that smirk, and now he’s squandered it. Fucking fairies.

He glances out from the equipment shed through its tiny window. Sure enough, the fairies – which contrary to Disney’s beliefs, are totally people-sized and terrifying, and not one of them looks like Tinkerbell – are still milling about the lacrosse field, obviously looking for something.

Danny hopes it isn’t him. 

He ducks again before any of them spot him, and leans back against the door. 

“You know?” Jackson is asking on the other end of the line. 

“Yes, of course,” Danny says. “Honestly, Jackson, last full moon you told me you were washing your hair.”

“I said I was trying out a new hair treatment,” Jackson mutters. “That’s a whole different thing, and really, technically it was the truth.”

“Uh-huh,” Danny says. “So anyway. Can you muster up the cavalry and get me out of here? Or at least find out if I’m in as much danger as I think I am? I’m in the lacrosse shed.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says confidently. “Yeah, I’m on it.”

Danny recognizes the bravado in Jackson’s tone and tries to get a quick, “Be careful!” out before Jackson hangs up. He doesn’t know if he succeeds or not.

So he waits.

The fairies are still out there, and Danny realizes that what seemed like aimless milling about isn’t aimless at all, but rather, they’re moving in a pattern.

He peers up at the sky. The moon is a perfect half-moon. Danny has no clue whether that’s significant or not, but given that the lunar aspects of lycanthropy are apparently a real thing, he’s going to go out on a limb and suppose that the moon has some mystical powers for other creatures, too.

Why they’ve chosen a lacrosse field for their ritual, he has no idea. 

So he sits quietly below the window, where he’s least likely to be seen, and waits for werewolves to come to his rescue. He’s kind of hoping that one of them is the mega-hottie from Stiles’ bedroom, who _had_ to have been a werewolf, and if he kills a few minutes fantasizing about a dramatic shirtless rescue… Well, Danny’s only human, after all.

He figured it would take a while to research and get into rescue-mode, so he startles pretty badly when, fifteen minutes after he gets off the phone, he hears the familiar sound of the Porshe’s engine revving and then Jackson yelling, “Hey, you giant-ass moths, get off my lacrosse field!”

Danny takes a deep breath and hopes that Jackson didn’t just charge into a fairy mine-field all by his lonesome.

The fairies – who so far have only muttered in a language that sounds surprisingly musical – apparently take offense at being called moths, and they start hissing like cornered cats.

Danny dares to peek out the window. The fairies are all facing Jackson, who is standing in the bright headlights of his Porshe, and they have their jagged teeth bared and their sharp-tipped fingers up.

There is no cavalry in sight.

Danny hopes that Jackson is going to howl or something and the rest of the pack will Lassie their way to the rescue, but instead, Jackson lets out a startled noise, like he’d expected the fairies to be cowed by the sight of his splendor, and then takes off running towards the shed.

Through the herd of angry fairies.

Danny can’t look. He really just… 

He can’t look.

So he grabs hold of the door, and listens to the hissing and shrieks from the fairies and the growls and curses from Jackson and when it sounds close enough, he swings the door open so Jackson can race inside. He pulls the door shut quickly, and Jackson uses some of his super wolf-powers to hold it shut.

Danny finds a crow bar to shove through the handle and wedge through a hook on the nearby wall to secure the door. The fairies pound on the door, but as soon as the crow bar is in place, they pull back.

Jackson blinks at the door, like he’s trying to figure out why.

“Iron,” Danny says after a moment, a half-remembered fairy tale dredging up a useful fact. “Fairies can’t stand iron.”

“Well,” Jackson replies. “That would have been useful to know five minutes ago.”

“I told you to research,” Danny admonishes him. “Seriously, Jackson, you’re never going to get ahead in life if you don’t study.”

“Of course I’m going to get ahead in life,” Jackson tells him firmly. “I’m gorgeous, rich and have superpowers.”

Danny punches Jackson in the arm, but only for the good of humanity.

Jackson looks out the window. “So they’re still out there, prancing around the field like they’re in the world’s worst marching band.”

“Are they? I thought they’d just wander off after realizing they were up against a Porshe,” Danny says, because Danny’s still a little cranky that Jackson’s idea of a rescue was to do the exact opposite of what Danny suggested.

Jackson gives Danny his favorite bitchy glare. “At least they aren’t trying to pound down the door. That’s what I would do.”

“Why aren’t they?” Danny wonders, glancing out the window. The fairies have abandoned their chase and are back to their ritual, seemingly ignoring the shed. Danny suspects that they’re not actually disinterested, and that they would attack if he and Jackson left the shed, but apparently the ritual is time-sensitive or something.

“Maybe whatever they’re doing is more important,” Jackson suggests. “So what do we do?” 

“What do…” Danny repeats, then shakes his head. “You’re rescuing me! You’re the supernatural creature here.”

“I’m new at it,” Jackson admits. “And I don’t really think I can do much against a horde of fairies.”

“And your werewolf buddies?” Danny sighs and sinks down against the door again. He loops his arms around his knees and looks up at Jackson.

“Do we really have to call them?” Jackson sits too, thumping his head up against the wall. 

“Do you have a better plan?” Danny asks. “Because your last one was just to insult the scary monsters and then run. You’re smarter than that.”

“It worked a lot better in my mind,” Jackson admits. “And I just… I don’t want to talk to the pack yet.”

“Why not?” Danny’s known Jackson long enough to see that there’s something deeper going on. 

Jackson gives him the look, the one he always gets when he wants a hug but can’t ask for one because he’s Jackson, and Danny holds out his arm obligingly. Jackson scoots over and tucks himself up against Danny, resting his head on Danny’s shoulder, and lets out a sigh.

“I was a monster,” Jackson says quietly. “I _killed_ people. People don’t have dads because of me.”

Danny is at a loss for words, so he just squeezes Jackson’s shoulder. He doesn’t know all the details of this story, but he knows Jackson. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was me.” Jackson nuzzles against Danny’s chest, and that’s definitely something new. Something to do with him being a werewolf, Danny thinks. It’s almost primal, like Jackson doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “Doesn’t matter who was controlling me. It was still me in there somewhere.”

The final few puzzle pieces click together, half-heard conversations and Jackson’s sense of urgency before that final lacrosse game, and it’s all Danny can do to not wrap Jackson in the tightest bear hug possible. “No, it wasn’t. My Jackson wouldn’t do that.”

Danny knows this for sure. It doesn’t matter that his best friend can be a douchebag. Jackson’s a good person where it matters, and that’s why Danny loves him.

“Your Jackson isn’t a monster,” Jackson mumbles, mouth half-pressed against Danny’s shirt, like he doesn’t actually want Danny to hear the words. 

“He’s not,” Danny agrees. “My Jackson would warn me against a threat, even if it was himself. And my Jackson would rather hurt himself than his friends.”

Jackson’s shoulders are tense, and Danny moves a hand up to rub them in gentle, calming circles. “You really knew?”

“Not everything,” Danny admits, because he can’t lie to Jackson, not when he’s like this. “But enough. And I’m kind of pissed that you never told me. I tell you everything.”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me.” Jackson doesn’t even sound convincing, but Danny doesn’t force him to find the words for the real reason, which undoubtedly is as thorny and complicated as Jackson himself.

Danny just gives into the urge and presses a kiss into Jackson’s temple. It’s always been easier for Jackson to understand actions rather than words . It’s part of what makes him such a good lacrosse player and part of why he’s so abrasive with the way he speaks and treats people. Jackson doesn’t pull away, just nestles closer.

Danny can’t help but notice that Jackson’s skin is somehow hotter now, almost like he’s got a fever, but he’s not flushed. It has to be part of his transformation, and it’s strange that there are things about Jackson that Danny doesn’t know now. They’ve been so close for so long, and Danny’s not going to let the whole creature of the night thing create a gulf between them. 

He’s somewhat startled when he realizes that he’s pushed the thought of the fairies outside of his mind. The fairies haven’t shown themselves to be violent, necessarily, for all their hissing and snarling, and right now, Jackson is more important. Danny is fine with settling in to wait them out, hoping their ritual is in fact tied to the moon and might end soon. 

He thinks Jackson needs this, needs closeness. 

Needs to feel safe.

So Danny holds him until his arm starts to go numb and he thinks Jackson might have actually fallen asleep on him.

He prods at Jackson’s shoulder, because someone has to get up to see if the fairies are still out there. Jackson mumbles something and snuggles closer, and Danny can definitely feel a spot where Jackson’s drooled on him in his sleep.

He prods him again, and when Jackson sleepily reaches up to grope Danny, well. Danny pushes him over, letting him fall to the plain cement floor of the shed. 

“The hell?” Jackson snaps, eyes popping open. For a second Danny thinks that his eyes gleam a different color, but then they’re just the normal shade. Danny hopes that he isn’t going to have to start treating Jackson more tenderly now that he’s a werewolf, because one of the foundations of their friendship is that Danny doesn’t put up with Jackson’s shit.

That cuts both ways, but Danny’s still got a million best friend points racked up thanks to the heart-wrenching day he spent believing Jackson was dead.

“You drooled,” Danny says, pointing to a spot on his shirt. “Or should I say slobbered?”

“Fuck you,” says Jackson, as charming as ever. He stands and brushes the dust off his jeans. 

Danny pushes himself up, rubbing the tingles from the arm that Jackson put to sleep, and looks out the window. “The fairies look kind of distracted.”

The fairies are grouped together at one end of the field, far enough away from the shed that Danny thinks they might not even be concerned about the witnesses to whatever they were doing.

“Distracted?” Jackson looks over his shoulder. “Think we can make a run for it?”

Danny is more than willing to try. He takes a deep breath, and Jackson pulls the crowbar loose and says, “Ready?”

“Ready,” Danny says, and then they race across the lacrosse field.

He can see faint silvery lines, some kind of magic, but he doesn’t slow down to take it in. He dives for the passenger door of Jackson’s car, fumbling slightly with the handle even as the engine rumbles to a start. By the time he gets inside Jackson has the car sliding into reverse, backing away from the field.

Danny can see a few of the strange creatures glancing back in their direction, but whatever magic they’re sewing into the ground clearly takes precedence for them. Danny thinks he’s going to be nervous about the field when the light of day is on it, but right now, he’s too happy about escaping to care.

He reaches over and squeezes Jackson’s hand in thanks. “I owe you one.”

“Let’s count it even from the whole paralysis thing,” Jackson offers.

Somehow Danny hasn’t even realized yet that Jackson had been responsible for that, even though he’d figured out that Jackson was the kanima. 

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, then after a pause, he says, “I vote we skip practice tomorrow.”

“Who knows what kind of freaky shit those fairies were conjuring up.” Jackson’s eyes cut to the rearview mirror, and Danny wonders if he can still see the traces of magic in the air. 

“Should we… I don’t know, call someone about it?” Danny asks, even though he has no idea who would be the proper authority to inform about unknown fairy magic.

A sour expression crosses Jackson’s face, and he probably knows someone they could call, but he just shakes his head. “If it’s weird tomorrow, we’ll tell some people. Right now I just want to go home.”

Danny knows without asking that he’s going with Jackson. Jackson doesn’t deal well when his emotions are bubbling just under the surface, and Danny thinks he can probably distract him somehow.

And maybe get Jackson to spill a few details about being a werewolf. It’s out in the open now, and Danny… Well, Danny’s been sitting on his curiosity for long enough.

Time for some answers.


End file.
